


The Apprentice

by Butterflyfish



Series: Daryl / OFC Imagines [1]
Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-13
Updated: 2020-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:41:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23129476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Butterflyfish/pseuds/Butterflyfish
Summary: Never mind that my car needs fixing, or that my damn shoes are too tight, now the photocopier is broken and I have a very important meeting this afternoon.What else could go wrong today?Her mechanic husband's apprentice comes to collect her vehicle, he gets more than he bargained for.
Relationships: Daryl Dixon/Original Female Character(s)
Series: Daryl / OFC Imagines [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1662532
Kudos: 11





	The Apprentice

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on my tmblr
> 
> Butterflyfish writes.

I kicked the stupid machine in front of me again. A giant fax come copier come scanner...thing... which I could never actually work out and which always broke when I really needed it. The company would never swing for a new one, so I was stuck with the heap of crap until the copy guy came and declared it defeated.

As I bent over the paper tray, exasperated, I heard the tell-tale squeak of my office door opening, and called out without thinking.

"Scott, that you? The damn copier's bust again." But instead of the usual grunt from the copier guy I heard a small cough, a polite clearing of the throat.

"Uh, no ma'am." Shit, I forgot Daryl was coming, my husband's apprentice at the auto shop he ran, to pick up my car and take it for a service. And here I was in my nicest work dress, tailored to within an inch of it's life, hugging me spectacularly because I had a meeting with leery clients and that shit always worked and made me lots of commission.

Fuck. What must he think of me all bent over?

I straightened, ever so carefully, and turned to him, knowing my face would be redder than the rag he was fiddling with nervously. I hoped it was the office, the posh surroundings, making him nervous and not me. His dark blue eyes regarded me carefully as I plastered on a smile.

"Daryl! I forgot you were coming." He shrugged one shoulder and drawled at me:

"Should I'ah called first?" I shook my head.

"No, It's fine. Did you have any trouble getting in? Security can be such a bunch of douchebags..." I stopped myself, that kind of language wasn't in keeping with my work persona, but Hell, I'd said it now, It wasn't like I could grab the words and stuff them back down my throat.

"Nah" Daryl shook his head ever so slightly, he was always very quiet, contemplative, and more observant than any man I'd ever met.

"I don't suppose you could look the copier over, could you?" I asked sweetly. "You're so very good with your hands." A ghost of a smirk crossed his face, fleeting but definitely real.

"I'd rather jus' grab ya car, n get back to work." I studied my desktop legal pad and hummed softly to myself, scribbling a note, making sure Daryl saw it, then ripping off the sheet and forcing it through the shredder. "A'ight" he said, red faced and looking a little shifty "I guess I c'n take a look." He looked me up and down and licked his lips tentatively. I smiled a tight smile and pointed him in the right direction, although, to be fair, the giant machine was up to chest height and hard to miss. Bless him. He was just nervous.

I picked up the phone and called my assistant.

"Bethy, I'm going to be out for the next two hours." I saw Daryl's back stiffen from the corner of my eye and couldn't help but smile "my meeting with Kutrt, King and Capricorn isn't until three, but if they come early do make them feel welcome." I put the phone down just as Daryl stood and turned to me. A bitter sweet moment, his broad back always made me so happy. But then, that little mole above the scruff along his top lip was fun to watch, too. That and those blue eyes like angry skies or the deepest, unexplored, oceans.

I cleared my own throat, stood up and faced him.

"It's got a wheel missin', ain't nothin' I c'n do, looks like someone kicked it." He looked down at my very high, very expensive, pumps, and I bit my lip, hiding the scuff on the right one behind my left leg.

"Well," I said. "Shall we? we'll take the elevator to the garage" I lowered my voice and spoke very close to his ear "My feet are fucking killing me." He smirked again, but it wasn't the chuckle I wanted. I pursed my lips and narrowed my eyes at him, leading the way to the elevator, as he trailed behind like a lost puppy.

I'd warned him about that before.

As we waited for the car to come, he looked me over, drinking me in. I won't lie and say itdidn't excite me.

"I love the dress." He whispered huskily and I desperately tried to stop my face from pinking. He never saw me like this. Whenever we met I was dressed in my casuals, jeans, converse, not satin and lace and ridiculously expensive shoes I only made sure I wore because my husband went nuts when he saw he price.

I hated them, and they hurt me, but thwy were so beautiful.

I ran my hand over the deep V neckline and gave him a smile before nodding inconspicuously towards the security camera. He looked around casually, noticed it, and raised his eyebrows at e. I felt my skin pink again, and turned my face away from him. Then he chuckled, a deep, throaty, quiet noise that sent a shiver down my spine.

Where the hell was this elevator?!

Finally the doors opened after a quiet and polite ping. I sighed with relief and stepped in, careful not to rush. Daryl stepped in behind me, not waiting for the doors to close before his hands were on me.

"Daryl Dixon!" I said breathily as the doors finally, achingly slowly, closed behind us, his hands around my waist, his mouth on my neck.

"I hate you at work." He said, reaching passed me and hitting the emergency stop button, careful not to touch the alarm. The elevator shuddered violently and threw us into the back wall. Daryl pressed against me, his mouth on my neck again, hands on my ass. I tried to pull away, turning in his arms, which just meant his mouth pushed against mine. "Ya such a dick at work." He said, pulling away and staring at me, panting hard. His mouth open slightly, his breath hot on my skin.

"Screw you!" I said playfully,

"Gladly." He breathed, pushing his crotch against me and sniffing my hair. "Ya look fuckin' good though." He stepped back and looked me up and down, and I felt a tightening in me as he did so. "Ya wearin' the shoes." He said appreciatively, pushing against me again. "They really killin' ya feet?" I wondered why he was talking about my god damn shoes. I rolled my body against him, made to lick the shoes off, and he stopped me.

"Keep 'em on." he breathed, kissing me before he'd even finished his sentence. His scruffy beard chafed against my skin, and I couldn't help the moan that escaped through my nose. It spurred him on, and he was suddenly lifting my skirt so that it pooled at my waist and draped over his arm. He found the scrap of material I was wearing as panties and a growl escaped him. He pulled his mouth from mine and stared at me with those dark blue eyes I loved so much. They seemed darker, deeper. Breathing hard, his forehead against mine, his fingers finally found their way passed my underwear. I gasped a high pitched inhalation as his thick but soft fingers found their way inside me.

I lifted a leg to give him more room to work, teaching between his legs and rubbing at the growing bulge there. He grunted, no doubt the zipper was catching on him, the idiot rarely wore underwear.

He didn’t even wear any on our wedding day.

“Stop messing around and fuck me already” I said to him, and an animal, guttural sound came from him. He removed his fingers from me and dropped his jeans in an instant before hiking up my dress and lifting me from the floor.

He balances me against the wall, lowering me as I grabbed his length and guided him in.

our life had hit a bump. We couldn’t get pregnant and a rift grew between us. After months of nothing we decided to talk, and our fantasies came out. Turned out fucking in an elevator was high on both our lists.   
the role play was his idea, the shoes were mine.


End file.
